


Fun For All the Family

by Polomonkey



Category: Bounty Hunters (2017)
Genre: BDSM, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, M/M, St. Andrew's Cross, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 02:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13285446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: "My brother Keegan and I are not collectors, we're lovers.........of art."Webb and Keegan get up to a little art appreciation in the basement.





	Fun For All the Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clea2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/gifts).



> Because someone had to be the pervert to write Sherman twincest, and by golly that pervert was me. For the equally perverted Clea, as a very late birthday gift.
> 
> Fills my crucifixion square on h/c bingo, so do be aware that's an element in this fic, albeit one with a kinky twist.

Keegan should perhaps have been more alarmed to wake up tied to a piece of wood with no memory of how he got there. Most people would be. But then most people didn’t have a twin brother like Webb.

“You drugged the Gatorade,” he said, and was pleased to hear he only slurred a little.

“It’s bad for you,” Webb said, walking into view. “Too much sugar in that shit.”

His brother was still dressed in his tennis whites from before. Keegan wasn’t wearing anything. He’d object to being stripped by Webb yet again, but what was the point? They had the same body. Seeing his brother naked was like looking in a mirror.

He wiggled his feet experimentally to confirm that they were, in fact, tied fast in place.

“We were playing tennis,” he said slowly. Webb was smiling encouragingly, he always liked Keegan to guess how he’d got here.

As far as Keegan could remember, they’d been in mid-match when he broke off to take a drink.

“You were losing,” he guessed.

“Wrong. You lost. And we had a wager on it, dear brother.”

Keegan attempted to move his arms but they were spread wide and tied down securely.

“A wager?”

“Shhh. Almost done.”

Webb moved to the side and picked up a piece of rope attached to a pulley. He tugged on it and Keegan watched the muscles ripple in his brothers arm. Donatello’s David wasn’t a patch on Webb as far as he was concerned.

Then he realised he was being lifted in the air.

He was on the St. Andrew’s Cross… except he wasn’t, because the angle was all wrong. Instead of being spread out on a saltire, it was more like-

“A crucifix,” Webb said, smiling wide. “I had it altered for you, brother. This just felt a little more… Raphaelite.”

Keegan feet were untied now and his toes could barely touch the ground. There was a leather strap around his torso, tightened much too far. His arms were spread so wide they ached, and it was difficult to draw breath properly.

He was hard as a rock.

“Do you love it?” his brother asked.

Keegan opened his mouth instead of answering, and Webb pushed his fingers inside. He sucked on them obediently.

“You wagered me to turn you into a work of art. Of course my mind went to the great frescos of our time, the Madonnas, the Christ child. But the cross itself… well that’s a symbol that takes some beating, don’t you agree?”

Keegan couldn’t answer. Webb was pushing his fingers as far as he could inside Keegan’s mouth.

“Speaking of beating, we’ll get to that later. For now…”

Webb pulled his fingers out with a pop.

“Legs up,” he instructed and Keegan gripped the straps around his arms tight before painstakingly raising his legs. He was panting from the effort and Webb made him hold it a while before walking in between them

“Around me,” he said, and Keegan gratefully wrapped his legs around his brother, gripping him for support.

Webb reached for Keegan’s hole, shoved two slicked up fingers straight inside. Keegan was still stretched from the plug he’d been wearing all morning, the one with Webb’s name on it in tiny silver letters.

“The problem with paintings,” Webb mused, fingers moving vigorously. “With sculptures.”

He curled his fingers roughly and Keegan gasped.

“Is that they’re not alive. The thought behind them, the motion, the spirit, all of that lives. But the piece itself…”

He dropped his tennis shorts, brought one hand down to stroke his cock.

“To put it bluntly…”

Without warning, he thrust his full length inside Keegan, eliciting a scream.

“…You can’t fuck it.”

Keegan let his head drop back against the cross, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations. The ropes burning his wrists, the strain on his thighs as he clung on to his brother, and the cock moving punishingly fast and hard inside him. It was the most exquisite agony.

Webb came faster than usual; clearly setting up the cross had been foreplay enough for him. He gripped the base of Keegan’s cock until he asked very nicely, and finally allowed him to finish into his brother’s hand. Then Webb smeared the come all over Keegan’s face and stood back to admire his handiwork.

“Incomparable,” he sighed. “I’ve outdone myself.”

Keegan stretched his toes towards the floor and didn’t ask to be let down. He knew better than that.

“That was the prize for my winning. Now the punishment for you losing…”

The flogger was in Webb’s hand. Keegan looked deep into his brother’s face, that perfect blemish free replica of his own.

And nodded.


End file.
